The last exclamation was almost a gasp, but Seth did not hear it. As she stepped forward to the 'phone she had dropped her letter. Atkins went over and picked it up. It lay face downward on the floor, and the last page, with the final sentence and signature, was uppermost. He could not help seeing it. “So we shall soon be together as of old. Your loving brother, Benjamin.”
When Mrs. Bascom turned away from the 'phone after a rather protracted conversation she looked more troubled than ever. But Seth was not looking at her. He sat in the rocking-chair and did not move nor raise his head. She waited for him to speak, but he did not.
“Well,” she said with a sigh, “I guess I must go. Good-by, Seth.”
The lightkeeper slowly rose to his feet. “Emeline,” he stammered, “you ain't goin' without—”
He stopped without finishing the sentence. She waited a moment and then finished it for him.
“I'll answer your question, if that's what you mean,” she said. “And the answer is no. All things considered, I guess that's best.”
“But Emeline, I—I—”
“Good-by, Seth.”
“Sha'n't I,” desperately, “sha'n't I see you again?”
“I expect to be around here for another day or so. But I can't see anythin' to be gained by our meetin'. Good-by.”